As soon as he could, he got up to leave.
He was not happy with the sermon my colleague had preached.
“You have a good heart,” he said.
“But bad theology.”
I wish he had lingered for a moment so we could talk more, but he was out the door and down the walk before I could say anything else. If he had stayed a bit longer, I could have listened and responded to the concerns he had. I could have suggest he talk with my colleague to get to know her a bit and better understand the point she was doing her best to make. If he had stayed a bit longer I could have suggested both those things, but, the truth is it wasn’t until today that I realized how I would have liked to been able to respond.

If he had stayed long enough…
If I had been wise enough…
I would have liked to say something like this.“I know you and I disagree on how we read and understand the Bible. And I know we disagree in our theology.But I wonder…In our worship this morning was there any time when you think someone who needed it might have come close to God? In our worship this morning was there a time when the children in our midst knew they were important and that we cared about them and that this was their church, too? In our worship this morning, were you able to pray for those in need? Did we make space for you to pause long enough to pray for yourself and for those whom you love and for the world God has entrusted to our care and keeping? If you can say Yes to any of that then maybe that is enough. You and I can sit and debate Bible and theology. Agree on some things and disagree about others. Christians have done that for two thousand years. But that moment of grace which that one person needed…that could only happen today.”

The headlines are heavy.
ISIS.
Boko Haram.
Syria.
Political craziness.
A train crash.
The funerals.
A friend whose memory is failing.

In the face of all of that and more, today I am going to do two things.
First, I will acknowledge the suffering and pain and heartbreak that surround so many and, to the extent that I am able, allow it it break my heart as well.

Second, I am going to pay close attention to the goodness which brushes up against my life today which will never make the headlines in the news.
The gift of a grandchild.
The support that surrounds a family in a time of need.
The moment I have to pray. Please. Thank you. Please. Wow.
Food being prepared to share with others.

I don’t want to ignore or to turn away from what is the reality of so many, but at the same time I don’t want to forget the goodness and grace which brushes up against our lives each day.

Each fall I gather with a group of Ninth grade students and begin a 6 month conversation with them about this thing we call faith. We talk about God and Jesus and how one reads the Bible. We practice putting our values into action by serving the community. We do our best to overcome childhood ideas and open the door to new ways of thinking and understanding.
There are only a couple of ground rules:

They can ask me anything they want and I will give them a honest answer.

With the exception of one thing, they can say anything they want.

The only thing they can’t say is “I don’t know.” as a way to avoid thinking or adding their thoughts to the conversation we are having.

So, we began last week.
Towards the end of our time together I gave them a piece of paper and asked them to list any questions they had about any of the topics we might spend some time talking about over the next several months. A couple of them laughed when they saw the word God.“When I was little,” they said. “I thought you were God.”I told them of the time when I was walking our dog and a little boy whose family was a part of the church saw me and turned to his Mom and said, “Mom, I didn’t know God had a dog.”
Sitting around the table and talking with me now, they shook their head wondering how they could have ever have been so naive.

But, as is so often the case, I walked away wondering…
Aren’t we supposed to be God to each other?
Light to those who struggle to find their way in the darkness?
Forgiveness to those who are being swallowed up by guilt?
Reminders of grace and gratitude in a world that too often focuses solely on me and mine?
A reminder of the Holy which daily brushes up against our lives?
I don’t mean for it to go to my head.
Or, to yours.
But, aren’t we?

Following in the footsteps of the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge and Facebook’s version of a chain letter where you are asked to list three things you are grateful for each day for a week, another social media challenge being passed back and forth between friends is listing 10 of your all time favorite books. While no one has challenged me to add my list yet, it has caused me to think about which books would be on my list. In addition to Raids on the Unspeakable by Thomas Merton and Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings Trilogy, my list would include the book The Uses of Enchantment by Bruno Bettelheim. Bettelheim was a child psychologist who worked with emotionally disturbed children. While much of his work has since been discredited, his book The Uses of Enchantment forever changed the way I understand stories and how I read the Bible. The thesis of his book is that for most of human history, stories and storytelling was primarily not about enjoyment, but about meaning and message.
About a way…
About the way…
To convey social norms and to talk about the complexity of interpersonal relationships and about what it meant to be a responsible member of the community of which you were a part. The Bible is filled with these types of story. And, if we are to ever understand the Bible, we need to read and to hear it in this way. I agree with the insight of William Sloan Coffin, one time Chaplain at Yale and Pastor at Riverside Church in New York City, who said, “The Bible is true and some things happened.”

So with that, this true story from the Bible for your reflection this morning.After their escape from Egypt and after years of wandering in the wilderness, Moses selected 12 men, one from each of the tribes of Israel, and sent them to spy on the land of Canaan, the land which they believed God had promised to them. After being gone for a long time the men returned bringing with them grapes and pomegranates and figs. An abundance of food to those who knew only the dryness and the scarcity of the desert. In anticipation, the people gathered as the spies made their report to Moses and Aaron.“The land to which you sent us,” they said, “is beautiful and abundant.A land flowing with milk and honey.”You can imagine the excitement those words caused.Caleb, one of the spies, then spoke up.“Let us go, right now, and occupy the land for we will be able to overcome it.”“No” said the others.“Not possible. For those who live in that land are giants who live in strong, well fortified cities.Next to them we are only grasshoppers.”The story continues to unfold, of course.
You can read it in the Book of Numbers, one of the first five books of the Bible.
The end result of this portion of the story is that Moses and the Israelites did not listen to the urging of Caleb. Instead, they let the fear of the giants prevail and so consigned themselves to more time in the wilderness. More time wandering in the desert.

So, this morning I would ask you to think with me about giants.
Not the Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum giants of Disney animation, but those situations or those circumstances or those problems which seem so large. So overwhelming. So invincible. So gigantic that you dare not face them.
That we dare not face them.
And so resign ourselves to whatever wilderness it is in which we find ourselves.
Here is the truth.
Giants exist.
Health giants.
Social problem giants.
Relationship giants.
Self worth giants.
Growing up or growing old giants.
Financial giants.
You know what I mean.
They are real.
They tower over our lives.
The shadows they cast wrap our lives with gloom.
And, next to them we feel like a grasshopper.

And, here is also the truth.
At least if you, like me, believe that stories are or can be true.
By the end of the story, the giants never prevail.
Jack cuts down the beanstalk.
The Israelites eventually find their way to the Promised Land.
David slays Goliath.
You find the courage to face the issues confronting you.
The blind man is healed.
Jesus is resurrected.
We find a way to name and to address the complicated issues facing us as a church or as a community or as a nation or as the world.

The way between here and there may not be easy.
Is never easy.
Or, neat or clean or even clear-cut when we are in the midst of it.
But the end of the story is already known.
If we face them…
When we face them, the giants lose their power.
So, what does all this have to do with God and church and beautiful fall Sunday morning?
And, more importantly, what does this have to do with life and faith and your life as it is?
Maybe this (again, if you believe like me that stories are or can be true)…
Remembering the story from the Bible I told this morning, the prompting of God was in the witness of Caleb who spoke up and said: “We can do this. It may not be easy, but we can do this.”God is in the possibility…
God is not only here, but waiting for us in life over there.
In life beyond fear.
In life outside the scarcity of the wilderness.
Or, what about this?
You may be walking…
At some point in our lives we are sure to walk…
Through what the Bible describes as that Valley of the Shadow of Death;
With darkness surrounding us and uncertainty clinging to us;
But even there, the Bible says, God is with us;
With goodness and mercy dogging our steps.
Or, what about this.
You may stumble.
You may get weary.
We will fall down.
But if we trust in God the day will come when we will mount up on wings like eagles.
We will run and not be weary. We will walk and not faint.
Remember hearing those words?
And, we may be blind and not able to see the way forward;
And, fear may churn within us creating a knot in our stomach.
But, if we notice…
When we take time to see, grace still finds a way to brush up against our lives.

Can you believe it?
Giants.
But, also goodness and God and amazing grace.

Where I live school started yesterday.
At least the public schools.
Which means this Sunday is the first Sunday since the end of June when families and households will be back in a more “normal” schedule. Normal at least to the extent that that the schedule we keep for 10 months each year is to be considered “normal.”
In preparation for this Sunday and beyond…
Floors have been cleaned.
Classrooms are being readied.
A picnic has been planned.
The calendar…
At least my calendar…
Is, once again, becoming full.

Overall, I am glad for the programs and the classes and the opportunities to come together, but too easily and too often we mistake means for ends. We spend so much time and energy planning and preparing and getting ready that worship and classes and programs become an end in themselves. We measure our performance or other’s commitment by their attendance or participation. When, in reality, our gatherings, whether for worship or learning or service to others, should be an invitation more than an expectation. An opportunity for grace to brush up against our lives more than one more obligation.

I love the word grace, but I am sometimes not 100% sure I know what it means.
Space.
Sabbath.
Awe.
Pondering.
Questioning.
Wondering.
Resting.
Maybe all that and more.
What I am sure of is this.
Too often our churches have been more about expectations and obligations; about shoulds and oughts than they have been about grace.

I don’t know about you.
I sometimes barely know about me.
But what I do know is this.
I don’t need one more should or ought or weighty obligation.
I do need a place for grace.

When words escape us and we don’t know what to say,
This we ask, O God:
That our anguish be our prayer.
That our tears be our prayer.
That our emptiness be our prayer.
That our deepest longings and our bravest hopes be our prayer.
Because today words escape us and we don’t know what to say
But, here we are, O God.
Hear our prayer.

But leave us not where we are, O God.
Overwhelmed by hopelessness or emptiness or the violence.
Remind us again of goodness.
And, the daily grace which brushes up against our lives.
And, the bold dream of peace that lingers still.
And, in those moments, O God, awaken with us the courage and the conviction to do what we can, in whatever ways large or small, to turn back those agents of death and violence which demean and diminish and destroy so many.